It's The Great Pumpkin, Edward Elric
by zosimos
Summary: Ed and Al check out a lead that Mustang passed on to them on their quest after the Philosopher's Stone. Set in any continuity.


It was nearing dusk when they finally reached the small village. It was a good seven miles from the run-down train station that they had disembarked, it was little more than a wooden platform with a small station house and a water reservoir for the steam engine. Alphonse had gotten very good at measuring distance by his stride, and he'd had most of the journey to keep track since his brother was having another one of THOSE fits.

Alphonse wanted to blame the weather. It had been gray in East City, the sky a heavy overcast and the wind brusque, but it was still warm. As they drew away from the city the gray skies remained but a chill hung heavy in the air - it was clearly autumn. The leaves had turned now on most the trees, but as it had been a very dry summer the colors were muted as compared to last season. A lot of dirty yellow and sickly, dead brown leaves hung heavy in the trees, waiting for a strong enough wind to take them down from their branches.

Edward had been in a strange mood all week. He was snappish and short-tempered (really, Alphonse thought amused, when was he _not_?), and prone to fits of melancholy. He had stared silently out the train window at the scrolling countryside, leaving Alphonse to watch him in silent worry. His brother's mood swings had gotten quite a bit more dramatic as of late, and he hadn't really worried *before* this point, but this time of the year in particular put Edward into a funk.

They had gotten the lead from Colonel Mustang a few days ago. He didn't have much for them - Alphonse made the call in to Central command on his brother's behalf since Edward was in a Mood anyway - but he did have words of praise on the handling of a small band of rogue soldiers that they'd cornered a few weeks before. The tiny militia had been causing hell for the soldiers in East City, and Edward was only too glad to help stomp them unresponsive into the ground.

The lead was simply the name of a State Alchemist - the Restharrow Alchemist - and a village name, Bern. The rest was up to them. Alphonse had dutifully started looking up information on the Restharrow Alchemist and why Colonel Mustang would point them in his direction; his specialty was plant alchemy. It couldn't hurt to go have a talk with him, so as soon as he got his brother fed and rested, they set out for Bern.

Edward barely said three words on the train. Alphonse tried distracting him a few times with conversation, but didn't get much of a response. Alphonse walked to the end of the train and back a few times to get his own temper under control. No matter how much he wanted to take this out on Edward he just could not bring himself to. Not yet. When Edward was like this he would just take whatever beating Alphonse would hand him and if he and Edward were going to *fight* then they were going to fight _properly_.

They had barely gotten off the train and started along the foot path toward Bern when it started to rain. It wasn't a hard rain, but it was a steady, constant drizzle. Alphonse raised his helmet to the sky to stare at the foreboding, heavy clouds above their heads. There was no sign that it was going to let up. Edward had shrugged on the heavier red coat at Alphonse's insistence, but he didn't put up the hood.

The village of Bern was tiny. The road leading up to the village was lined with old stone fences, and cornstalks reached over the flat tops of retaining walls, bent slightly with the precipitation. There weren't as many trees this way, most of the land was cleared for farming. Edward hesitated at the crest of the hill, surveying the small cluster of homes and stores that made up the village before heading toward the largest building.

It was a tavern and an inn. Edward stood outside the building and looked up, the rain had left tracks down his face and dripped from his bangs. The warm light coming from inside the tavern colored his skin the same tone as his hair. "Domoi," Edward read the hand-painted sign hung over the door aloud.  
>"It means home," Alphonse said.<p>

"I know what it means," Edward snapped at him, and put his hand on the door.

Alphonse sighed to himself, an involuntary response since he didn't breath. It was going to be an unbearable evening.

* * *

><p>Edward sat in the large claw-footed bathtub, his knees pulled to his chest and his chin tucked on his knees. The water was warm, almost scalding hot, and it helped to sooth his sore and tired muscles. It also served to help the growing ache along the seam of metal and flesh where his automail was joined; the colder weather made the metal clamp tighter to his skin and caused him pain.<p>

This time of the year was always the worst. The red and gold leaves were like the flames in his memory, always chasing after him. He did not know why Alphonse was not MORE upset with him, but his brother had always had an inexplicable patience where Edward's tantrums were concerned.

Edward sighed and straightened his legs in the tub. They had sat in the tavern for dinner, Edward stealing food off of Alphonse's plate occasionally to make it look like he had eaten *something*, and eavesdropped on the farmers and the locals talking.

Their harvest was troubled. Dogs and sheep had gone missing; and everyone's fall crop of squash and pumpkins were diseased. The corn was mostly left alone, but the other harvest vegetables were thin and weak. It was not a good year.

It was the missing livestock that got Edward's attention. There wasn't a lot of wooded area for wolves to prowl, but that really wouldn't deter the most hungry of coyotes. However, the frequency, and the amount of missing livestock was curious. And what was more curious was that there were no remains.

According to Alphonse, Mustang had said that this wasn't a mission, just a lead. However, the man had this nasty way of giving them retroactive missions ... things that he wanted investigated but the military did not want to get involved in, on the off-chance that things went south fast. Of course, if everything turned out fine and dandy and good overcame evil and all that jazz the military would turn up to hog all the credit and Edward would get a pat on the head like a fucking dog or something.

Of course he could not be THAT upset about it, because like hell he was looking for validation from Mustang of all people. Besides, when things went right generally people were happy and lives and livelihoods were saved, and those were all things to feel good about. Who cares who got the credit in the long run?

He would have to read up on this Restharrow Alchemist. Alphonse had gotten a copy of the alchemist's file on the sly. Edward was not quite sure HOW Alphonse got a copy - Mustang certainly never slipped them the files of alchemists that they were interested in because it far exceeded their clearance levels - but without fail Alphonse would get a copy from SOMEWHERE, and they both would learn far more about what the military had State Alchemists doing than they were supposed to.

Edward hooked his arms over the lip of the tub and rested his chin on the cool porcelain. He could not fathom what the Restharrow Alchemist might have to do with the Philosopher's Stone, and that was the biggest warning indicator that this was a retroactive mission from Mustang. Plant alchemy usually led into medicinal alchemy, and rarely dabbled in the much darker and mystical side that the Stone was on.

The missing animals had to have something to do with him. The poor crop could possibly be linked too, but Edward could not yet link the two. He stood up in the tub, the water gray from all the dirt that had sloughed off of him after several days of travel. He and Alphonse had grown up in a farming community, but the crops and harvests were *boring*. Neither their family nor the Rockbells were farmers, and while they had some experience with livestock Edward did not have the first clue about farming.

Maybe Alphonse knew something that Edward did not. He wrapped a towel around his middle and headed back to the room, they had a lot to go over and very little time before morning to do so.

* * *

><p>Alphonse had learned over time to ignore Edward as he slept. He could read decently well in the dark; depending on where they were staying there could be a street light shining down into the room from the outside, enough to illuminate the pages he devoured. In Bern there were no street lamps, so he lit a candle and blocked most of the light from the side of the room with the bed on it by putting the suitcase between the candle and the bed.<p>

Edward slept restlessly. He moved in his sleep, laying on his right side with his back to Alphonse. The movement would catch Alphonse's attention, especially when Edward would curl up, and make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

He couldn't remember what it was like to sleep. Alphonse remembered being tucked into bed, how warm the covers felt and Edward sleeping beside him. He could remember *that*, but not the sensation of being sleepy. He couldn't remember how to yawn. Sometimes it stung, but most of the time he was grateful. He might be saddled with this unfeeling armor, but that also meant that he could be a shield for his brother, and work when his brother couldn't any longer. And if there was one thing Edward did, it was work himself until he *dropped.*

They had discussed it until the candle burned low. The Restharrow Alchemist lived in a farm on the furthest edge of the village, where the land stopped being cleared for farmland and where the wilderness started. Edward wanted to interview the townspeople about the alchemist, but Alphonse had already done that - or at least, he had asked around the tavern while Edward was soaking in the tub.

The general consensus was that Victor Banin - the Restharrow Alchemist - was not welcome in town. He lived on his family's farm, and when he had first come back from the war he had helped around town, repairing tools and sheds and the like. One of the townspeople had commented that the year he came back was the most bountiful harvest that the small community had ever had. But as the years wore on, the crops dwindled and something ... happened. No one had seen Victor Banin or his family for a few months, and no one had gone to check on them. They all stayed away from the Banin farm.

The barkeep, a tough older woman who ran both the bar and the inn, had warned Alphonse away from the farm. She had made a sign with her fingers, Alphonse had seen it before. It was a sign to ward off evil. Whatever was going on, it had the villagers afraid.

Edward made another noise in his sleep, and then said suddenly, "Al?"

Alphonse looked over to the bed, moving his head slowly so that the helmet didn't make a lot of noise against the helm. "Brother?"

"Al, don't - I'm sorry, 'm so sorry, don't leave me alone-"

There was no way for him to move completely silently, but Alphonse was good at not making a lot of noise. He stood beside Edward's bed; he still hadn't moved from his curled up position on his side. He was clutching his automail arm to his chest, and was still asleep. "'n't leave me," Edward mumbled into the pillow.

Alphonse sat down beside the bed. "I won't leave you, brother," he said softly. "I'm right here."

"'m sorry, Al."

"It's okay brother, I'm here." Alphonse watched as Edward sighed in his sleep, his face relaxing as the dream moved on. "I'm here," Alphonse repeated softly. After a few minutes of silence, he opened his book and began to read.

* * *

><p>Edward bounced on the balls of his feet, standing outside the inn. The gray clouds that had hung overcast for days had cleared and were only a dark stain on the distant horizon. The sky was blue, the sun was bright and the air was crisp. It was a gorgeous autumn day.<p>

The door banged as Alphonse opened it, ducking his head to make it through the doorway without knocking askew the helmet. "Miss Anna says that the Banin farm is about five miles to the west," he said. "She said she'll hold our stuff, but can't guarantee the room."

"Because there's just a line of people waiting to get in the door here," Edward said. He glanced back over his shoulder at Alphonse, grinning. "C'mon, Al, let's shake a leg. The quicker we get out there, the quicker we can get back here for dinner."

Alphonse gave his brother a level look. "You saw the menu already, didn't you?"

"Mutton!" Edward exclaimed. "And cider, too." He clapped his hands together excitedly. "Let's go, let's go."

"You know, when I have my body back I'm going to have nightmares about you eating meat off the bone like a wild animal, brother."

"Whatever, c'mon!"

There were farmers out in the fields tending to their crops. Edward shaded his hand over his eyes to see them in the distance. The air smelled fresh and loamy, and the distant trees didn't seem as bleak and dead; more vibrant with the regular autumn colors.

Alphonse heaved a great sigh when Edward made him stop and he climbed up to sit on Alphonse's shoulders. "They're only chickens," Alphonse said as they walked past a house set close to the road. There were about fifteen of the birds milling around the yard and the road.

Edward made a disgruntled noise and knocked the side of Alphonse's helmet. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll transmute you into a sock."

"A sock, brother?"

"And leave you on Havoc's desk."

There was a moment of silence as Alphonse processed this, then he proceeded to dump his brother onto the dirt road and continue on without him. Edward let out a great whuff when he landed on his backside in the muddy road, and then leaped to his feet to chase after his brother as a chicken clucked beside him. "AL, THAT'S DIRTY POOL!"

It was late morning by the time they approached the Banin farm. The house was set far, far away from the road, clustered in a grove of apple trees. Edward, being hungry, made Alphonse stand still so he could climb him and select a ripe red apple to munch on.

The house itself had fallen into disrepair. There were a few overgrown fields surrounding it, full of huge, ripe squash and overgrown pumpkins. The vegetables were large and looked particularly healthy, despite the thick weeds clogging the fields around them. Edward wandered among the rows of pumpkins, while Alphonse approached the house itself.

There was something amiss about all of this. Edward couldn't quite put his finger on it. Of course there was the fact that the house appeared deserted and yet the produce was thriving, but that wasn't what was bothering him. Banin was a plant alchemist, there was no surprise that he would be able to put his knowledge to use in this manner.

The cawing of crows got his attention. Edward took another bite of his apple as he glanced across the field at a scarecrow, mounted at the edge of the cornfield. Edward cocked his head, taking a bite of his apple as he watched a crow land on its arm. The bird moved a few times, hesitantly, up and down the arm before leaning in and tearing a strip of something that looked almost like paper off of the scarecrow.

Edward stopped chewing on his apple.

The thing that had set at the edge of his mind was that the usual smell of fall was not this sickly-sweet. This was the smell of decay. Edward turned on his heel furiously and kicked a pumpkin. The side of the vegetable caved in instantly when his boot hit it, to spill black, rotting guts across the weeds beside it.

"Al!" Edward shouted, as he ran toward the house.

Alphonse stood on the porch of the dilapidated house. The front door was open, but he'd gone no further than edge of the porch. The stench hit Edward from ten feet away, and he could *hear* the buzzing of flies from the outside. His stomach did a somersault and he backed away.

"It's a charnel house," Alphonse said, his usually-bright voice level and cold. "Mostly farm animals. I think I see- brother, I think-"

"Alphonse, get away from there!"

"There's a hand, someone's sitting on the couch-"

"_Al_!"

Even as Edward shouted for Alphonse there was a weird dragging sound from around the side of the house. A large, dark green vine vanished, as if sucked back away from the building. Without any hesitation Edward took off after the vine, around the side of the house, where he slid to a stop in horror.

There was a large, pulsating blob behind the house. It looked like perhaps it had been a person once, or maybe a very large pumpkin. Whatever it was now, it stank horribly of death and decay. Dark green vines slithered around it, most of them stretching out among the weeds into the fields beyond.

The smell alone made Edward want to vomit. But then - it moved. The top of it surged a little bit, leaning toward Edward. There was a face in there, somewhere, and the mouth opened but what emerged was nothing like any words that Edward had heard before.

He heard Alphonse come up behind him. "Brother, what-"

"I think it's Banin," Edward said, drawing his coat sleeve across his nose and mouth so he could breathe more comfortably. "Or what's left of him."

"That's disgusting."

"Yeah. I think he's feeding the crops with blood, or something - all the pumpkins out there are rotten, and I think he staked his family members as scarecrows along the borders of the property.  
>Edward's voice was full of revulsion. "The military's gonna want to firebomb this place off the face of the earth."<p>

"What do we do about that?" Alphonse nodded at the ... thing.

"Put it out of its misery," Edward said. He clapped his hands together to spark the transmutation and suddenly all the vines surged. Alphonse grabbed Edward and turned, shielding Edward's body with his own. Edward winced as he heard the vines ping off of Alphonse's metal body. "Thanks, Al!" he said, completing the transmutation of his arm-blade.

Alphonse let him go and turned, grabbing a vine as thick around as Edward and yanking. He had planted his feet but the vine was big and it nearly knocked Alphonse over. Edward ran in, arm-blade flashing, cutting deep into that thick main vine.

The noise that the creature made was absolutely inhuman. Thick, dark blood spurted out of the vine, nearly blasting Edward in the face. He wasn't able to cleanly sever it, his arm-blade was stuck in the gore of the tentacle. Edward braced his boot on it and wrenched his arm free, just as more tentacles, smaller ones, shot out and snagged him. …

Edward got his right arm up just in time to block one from tightening around his neck, but another wrapped around his chest, pinning his left arm to his side. "Brother!" Alphonse called, before the largest vine, oozing blood and gore from the huge wound Edward had inflicted, tossed Alphonse into the side of the house.

"Al!" Edward shouted, as the vines threw him off-balance. "All right, you son of a bitch," Edward snarled. "I'm done feeling sorry for your gross-ass self!" He twisted his right arm, the razor-sharp side of the transmuted arm-blade nicking his cheek, but at the same time slicing cleanly through the smaller vines. Edward slashed down, freeing his left arm and then clapping his hands, grabbing the writhing vines in front of him before they could tighten on his body again.

The transmutation made the two vines puff up and then, after a moment of thrashing, shrivel completely and drop, useless to the ground. Edward heard Alphonse clamber to his feet, still wrestling with the largest vine of them all. Edward clapped his hands again, and then dropped to the ground, both of his palms slapping the dirt.

The jagged spikes rose out of the ground and ripped through the bulbous, orange body like it was that rotten pumpkin. Blood and gore shot into the air and all the vines went instantly slack. Edward gagged at the brief rain of blood around the thing, and then fell back on his ass, breathing hard.

Alphonse sat down on the ground next to his brother. "Remind me to kick Mustang's ass when we get back to Central," Edward grunted, transmuting the automail back to normal.

"Yeah," Alphonse said. "I'll help."


End file.
